A compendium of league shorts
by Derstap2
Summary: A series of lol shorts dedicated to the lives of the champions of the institute, conventionally displaying them in their natural 'nature'. First time writing so please leave any criticisms :D


Lucian short- Holy grievance

'Rise again, I dare you'.

A grim smirk plasters itself on my face as my weapon yet again finds its mark; another grunt in the horrid undead shuffling their way towards me. The muzzle of my relic armament blazes repeatedly with charges of light, a gift intricately carved from a unique marble stone of extreme rarity. I steal a glance at my trusty sidearm, grateful for its consistency in my fight against the undead.

However, that's not the only trust I hold in this world. Senna is by my side, her firearm also relentlessly slings purifying charges into the mass of the undead. My wife also shares my perspective, as we both have the mutual mirthful disdain towards the dangers the undead pose and their origins, the enigmatic shadow isles.

When Senna and I took up the twin relic ordnances, we swore an oath; To protect the good people of Demacia from the undead, and to safeguard the purity of the living. As purifiers, we have always upheld these sacred vows. Since then, we have never faltered in our line of duty, never wavered from any form of undead, and we have always looked after one another's back.

Our success was publicly noted from the grateful commoners to the powerful nobles, and soon, we intended to bring the fight to the shadow isles themselves. Several people expressed their reluctance, but our resolve was stronger than steel, and a few words were never going to break it. It was an aspiration I wholeheartedly regret, a real, fucking naive one.

The nautical journey towards the isles was a daunting one. Even when we first saw it, it was mutually amended that evil reeked from every pore of the place. The plants sagged as if a leaden weight were laid on them, and every tree seemed to have a rotten seed of corruption deep within it, waiting to sprout. The fauna was no better.

Senna and I intended to reside in the isles until the whole location had our mark of consecration to it. The desolate island seemed to not even hold a candle to the hordes of undead we prematurely envisioned. How wrong we were.

The first moan was met with a sizzling projectile, courtesy of Senna's lightning reactions. A gurgling sound escaped the undead's throat and it stumbled until it reached us, where it ungracefully fell in a collapsed heap, death evident from the great gaping hole through its pale chest. I flashed her a quick smile, but she rebuked me, solemnly motioning for me to draw my own firearm. I nodded in comprehension and the familiar, metallic sound of my relic gun sliding from my holster kept my stability in check.

Then it happened .The undead hordes we envisioned multiplied infinitely, a congregation of spectral souls ambling towards us. Their cavernous maws were wide open, and their ashen limbs were twisted in unnatural angles. The majority had torn torsos, just ripped skin flailing around in the weak wind. Their facial expressions were those entrapped a perpetual agony, a testament of how far they were from the brink of eternal rest.

'Be grateful. By slaying you now, I spare you an eternity of torment'

With a roar, I charge into the fray, my weapon furiously fires repetitive charges into the exanimated masses. I suffuse an ardent blaze and launch it at a minute faction in my immediate vicinity. The unique assault cause several undead to reel back in shock and pain. The fiery centre of the missile, in conjunction with the quadruple blazing triangular points on each end serve as an ample defence against deterring the foes I face. I suddenly find my position compromised and preform a relentless pursuit which allows me to evade a deadly swipe and I imminently compose myself, then launch a critical strike at the offender's head.

My stamina swiftly recovers in my dire tribulation, although not fast enough, as I find myself hemmed in. I hear another firearm incandescently discharge into the night and realise that Senna has her own dilemmas she needs to set her focus on. I grit my teeth and smash the trigger of my gun, which causes a great, piercing light to erupt from the barrel of my gun, bringing forth a pillar of illumination which fells several ghouls in a column.

Something isn't right. I sense a new presence in the battleground and backflip onto higher ground to quell my sudden anxiety, ensuring my unassailable position. Then, I see him; Thresh. When Senna and I were privy to the tabs the Demacian government kept on the shadow isles, a peculiar file was kept on an unknown entity labelled 'Thresh'. The only intel was that Thresh was a malificent spectre and that he carried around a lantern with him, with speculation that linked it to fulfilling a sinister function.

In the combat zone, his presence is such that he literally exerts spiritual pressure and exudes an aura of a foreboding death. He stands two heads taller than the average ghoul and looks capable of individual though. His attire is that of a tattered trench coat with a dull grey colour to it. Thresh's general structure is, I speculate, a grander version of a large skeleton. On his left side. he holds the described lantern, a green, glowing object that flounces almost tenderly in his frail looking exterior. His other side however, is a stark contradiction. An ethereal sickle is held, with a cruel looking hook as it's head, and a spectral chain adjoining it. Thresh wields the weapon with such familiarity that I start to feel a chill come over me; the way he swings it is hypnotic, but deadly simultaneously. His deadly, turquoise eyes lock and burn into mine, and a deep, booming laugh emanates from the malicious spirit.

Senna seems to sense the new variable and fixes Thresh with a death stare of her own. I inwardly chuckle as I reminisce being on the receiving end of such a chilling gaze. I snap to attention as Senna nods her head towards Thresh, an indication of her intention to independently purge the spectre. I return with a slight nod and go back to thinning the ranks of mindless zombies with the special relic ammunition.

A distressed scream forces me to whip my head to its direction and I can't believe what I am seeing. Senna is sprawled on the ground and her weapon is not in immediate reach. Thresh towers over her and cackles manically, then sadistically stomps his heel into Senna's arm when she attempts to reach for her means of defence.

'A lively one, wouldn't you agree purifier?' Thresh's distorted voice evilly laughs.

Senna screams again as Thresh grounds his heel further into her arm, drawing a dark, crimson liquid from it. My eyes widen at how quickly a fiend from the shadow isles can disarm an experienced purifier. Thresh looks up to the heavens and the next course of action causes the most distress I will experience in my life.

A hook is wound up and fired through Senna's throat; a death sentence delivered so viciously and thoroughly that no scream is heard. Senna perishes, choking on her own blood as it wells and collects in her exposed mouth. A green orb floats from her chest, and finds its way Into Thresh's waiting lantern. He tilts his head and his gaze meets mine, a sadistic grin starting to form on his ghoulish face. I understand too late and Thresh realises it too; he has just taken my wife's soul.

I scream with anger and dash towards Senna and the ghouls seemingly part to let me reunite one last time with my beautiful wife. I stare longingly one last time and gaze into her glassy eyes, gentle orbs with beautiful hazel hues, the light of life in them mercilessly extinguished. Her jet black hair is a frenzied mess, and I unconsciously comb a stray strand and tuck it behind her ear. Her beauty and physical body is still intact, but I now fear for my sanity. My anger flares and my breaths visibly quicken, but I know recklessly charging Thresh is a death sentence.

'You took the better half of me Thresh. what you left is a dangerous enemy'. My voice growls with the convinced conviction of Thresh's demise.

I know what I must do. With trembling fingers, I pick up Senna's abandoned ordnance. I glance at her cold cadaver as a grim reminder of the vengeance I will strive to exact. I will not let Senna's death go unanswered, and the phrase 'an eye for an eye' is an exact statement of what is to come. Both hands find their way to the trigger of the respective weapons, and even I cannot make of what to do at this moment. A maniacal cackle reminds me.

'For Senna'.

One knee folds into a kneeling position, I tuck my head down and I raise both guns to the sky with my elbows by my side. When I rise, my eyes hold the look of a man with nothing to lose, glazed with the cold fury of the loss of a loved one and I swear Thresh recoils. I point the dual relic armaments at the fiendish reaper and pour everything I have into the weapons. An unforgiving torrent of searing white missiles burst forth from the marble barrels the dual weapons, the unrelenting barrage swiftly closing the distance towards their marked target.

'Ashes and dust'.


End file.
